


For the Love of a Daughter

by twyly56



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angry Dahlia (The Originals), Big Sister Freya Mikaelson, Big Sisters, But He Does Love His Little Freya, Child Abuse, Dysfunctional Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Freya is the Best Big Sister, Headaches & Migraines, Kid Klaus Mikaelson, Kid Rebekah Mikaelson, Mikael's Still a Bit of a Dick, Nosebleed, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Protective Freya Mikaelson, Protective Klaus Mikaelson, Protective Rebekah Mikaelson, Teen Elijah Mikaelson, Witch Freya Mikaelson, Witch Kol Mikaelson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twyly56/pseuds/twyly56
Summary: Freya runs away from her aunt after nearly blowing up their cottage with a burst of furious magic, and she stumbles into the woods to find a boy teaching his younger brother to shoot a bow. Her little brothers she had never met. While she's trying to find her footing again in her much larger, dysfunctional family, Dahlia is regaining her consciousness and furious at her niece's trickery. She was promised Esther's firstborn daughter, and she will stop at nothing to get her back.





	1. Chapter 1

Freya ran down the hill, stumbling a little as her bloody yellow skirt caught on some roots. She tore it away frantically, wincing at the sound of tearing cloth. She glanced down for a moment to see the tops of her boots and grimaced. She did not stop running, however, and she made her way down the uneven ground with half the skirt she usually had. It was actually easier to run without it weighing down on her legs as she pushed forward. Freya absently wiped away the blood dripping down from her nose into her mouth. The bond that she had with her aunt was still silent and cold. She was so grateful for that. 

If Aunt Dahlia was still unconscious, then she would not have to worry about her quite yet. She just had to get as far away that she could get. Freya finally reached a thicker wooded area in the flat ground, and she took a moment to rest against one of the tree trunks. Her lungs were burning, and her legs felt like jello. The tattered remains of her dress skirt were filthy, brushing the bare skin of her knees as she shifted on her booted feet. Freya nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a thump next her, and she whipped her head around. It was an arrow embedded in the trunk of a tree a few yards away. She blinked. She had not seen an arrow since... before. Aunt Dahlia never kept any around. 

"Your aim is improving. Next time," she heard a young male voice say. 

Freya cautiously peeked out from behind her tree and saw a boy that looked younger than her by a bit, at least, with dark brown hair standing next to a smaller boy with fair hair like her own. They were both holding bows, quivers slung over their shoulders. The blonde boy lowered the bow in his arms and looked dejected for a moment, but when the older boy patted him on the back, he smiled back at him. Freya felt herself start to smile as well. She heard heavier footsteps crunch closer, and she ducked back behind the tree. 

"You encourage him, Elijah? But he grows more pathetic by the day," the man said. Freya frowned, the bark of the tree trunk digging into her back. That voice sounded familiar, strangely enough. Where on earth had she heard it before? 

"I'm not pathetic," the boy protested. 

"Do not talk back to me. You're not man enough to hold that weapon," the man said. There was a rustling noise and a crunch of dried leaves. "If you can't hunt, you're nothing more than a burden." 

"I'm sorry," the boy responded, his voice growing smaller. 

"It's a shame we can't feed on sad eyed apologies. It's your one and only skill," the man snapped. Freya's eyes widened, and she turned her head back to them just as a slapping sound rang in the air. The boy cried out and lost his balance, falling to the floor. 

"Father, stop!" Elijah protested. Freya could not see the man's face from where she was standing, only the back of his head as he raised his hand to the older boy. 

"Stay back, or you'll be next," the man said.

He moved towards the boy still on the ground, and Freya felt panicked. No, no, no. She could not watch this. All of Aunt Dahlia's warnings about using magic in the presence of others disappeared from her mind. She darted out from behind the safety of her tree and flung out her hand. 

"Stop!" Freya cried. She had not meant to actually throw the man, only push him, but he went flying through the air, landing a dozen yards away. The boys looked at her in shock. She turned to them, and she lowered her hand back to her side. "Are you alright?" 

"I'm fine," the boy said. Elijah pulled him back to his feet, keeping him by his side. 

"What devil are you?" she heard the man ask. Freya turned her head back to him as she saw him push himself back to his feet. She felt like the last of her breath had been stolen from her lungs at the sight of his face. Oh, she did indeed know him. She set her jaw and blinked back tears. 

"Someone you once loved deeply, my Father," Freya said. 

Her father unsheathed a sword from his belt and strode toward her, looking furious. Freya took a step back, feeling her heart begin to race at the murder in his eyes. He did not seem to recognize his daughter. 

"I have no time for your riddles, witch," her father snarled. _Witch_ was spat like the ugliest of words. It made her chest ache. 

"Do you not recognize me?" she asked as she continued to back up with each step forward he took. "Can you not see the daughter you thought died so long ago?" 

" _You lie!_ " her father yelled. 

"You named your sword after the early morning sun. Its hilt was golden like the color of my hair. You said it would remind you of me while you were in battle," Freya said. Her father stopped walking, and she did, too. She stared into his pale blue eyes. "That I would be by your side no matter how far afield you traveled." He lowered his sword slowly. 

"It can't be," her father breathed, disbelief in his tone. 

"The night before you left for war, you christened that sword with goat's blood. When I awoke, you were gone. I never saw you again," Freya told him. She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. 

"It's been seventeen years. How is this possible?" her father asked. 

"I was taken. By Dahlia. I'll explain everything," Freya said. Her legs gave out, flimsy as a puppet with cut strings, and she fell to her knees. She felt her magic cushion her impact, so she did not accidentally bite off her own tongue. "Just say you believe me." Her voice came out as barely a whisper. 

Her father knelt in front of her, his weapon falling to the ground with a thud from his hands. He reached out to cup her face, his calloused hands gentle and tentative. There was a wetness in his eyes as he looked at her. 

"My beautiful Freya. My daughter," he gasped. Her father gathered her into his arms and hugged her tightly. Freya clung to him, her whole body trembling. Her father ran his hand over her hair, and she could hear him, crying. 


	2. Chapter 2

A FEW HOURS AGO

Freya smiled as she reached down and plucked the yarrow carefully out of its patch, the yellow petals glistening in the early morning dew. The stalk felt damp and rubbery under her bare fingers. She was about to stand up to start to head back to place it with the other herbs to dry when footsteps crunched closer to her. Freya froze in place, her ears pricking at the sound. 

"Freya! Freya!" she heard her aunt call out. The girl turned to Aunt Dahlia as she came closer, a basket of the laundry still in hand. The yarrow flower fell from her hands, fluttering like ash to the surface of the stream. "You cannot go past the stream! It is too dangerous." 

"Then where shall I go? To the hovel? To your garden?" Freya demanded angrily. "Oh no, I'm not allowed to venture that far. I might encounter _another person,_ and you will not stand for that." 

"People are frightened of that which they do not understand. They will only hate you, girl," Aunt Dahlia told her. 

"I hate this place! I want to see more! More than just the same trees, the same hills! A face that isn't yours!" Freya said. Anger boiled up in her insides. 

"Foolish, naive girl! You must never venture past the stream again. How many times must I tell you it is not safe? Do you wish to be burned alive?" her aunt asked. 

The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and she flinched back, anticipating Aunt Dahlia's next move, but she could not move away quick enough. Her aunt's thin fingers dug into the muscles of her shoulders, and Freya stiffened, her breath stilling in her chest. Aunt Dahlia pulled her away from the stream, ignoring the girl's cry of pain, and she started to drag her back toward the cottage. Freya screamed, struggling in her grip. The basket of clothes remained forgotten on the floor. 

"Let go of me, Aunt! I do not want to go back there! Let me go!" she cried. Freya gasped as her cheek suddenly stung, and her head snapped to the side. The braids on the sides of her head broke free of their pins, falling in front of her face, mingling with her free hair. Aunt Dahlia shook her, forcing her to look into her dark eyes. If it was not for the color in her cheeks, she would have compared her aunt to a corpse. Her skin was so cold. 

"You are an ungrateful _child!_ I feed and clothe you! I give you everything you could possibly need, and still you want more! How dare you?" Aunt Dahlia snapped. 

Freya let out a harsh breath, all but inhaling the hair in front of her face with her next breath. Her skin itched, and a pressure was building behind her eyes. Her head felt like it wanted to explode. Her aunt was still saying something, shaking her, bony hands gripping her biceps tightly, but she heard none of the words. The air around her seemed to grow hazy as her aunt finally flung open the door to the cottage. Freya let out an unearthly scream, clamping her hands over her own ears, and the pressure _exploded_ out of her. Aunt Dahlia's eyes widened for a split second in shock before she was flung backwards into the cottage, breaking a hole in the wall.

The roof of the cottage imploded, collapsing inside the building with a horrendous crash and a cloud of wood dust. Her skin was whipped raw by the harsh wind that swirled around herself, and Freya just kept screaming. Blood dripped from her nose, gushing down relentlessly, and she tasted the heady tang of copper on her tongue, the crimson fluid painting her lips, staining her teeth red. The bond that had tied her so tightly to her aunt was abruptly cold, empty. Not gone, but it was finally silent in the back of her mind. She felt as if she were being torn apart, every particle of her being ripping and piecing itself back together in a nauseating sequence.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, and when she fell to the floor, cracking her forehead on the rough ground, she was snapped back to consciousness. This was a new set of trees. The forest was unfamiliar, but that mattered not to her. She pushed herself to her feet and started to run down the hill. Aunt Dahlia would not be incapacitated forever. She had to get away  _now._  

 

PRESENT 

He was a warm presence, one that brought back good memories. He had always been so very sweet to her, his little Freya. She was his beloved daughter. Her father slowly pulled back from her and helped her to her feet. She noticed the boys standing where they had been still, staring at them both uncertainly. Elijah had called him Father as well, and she could only assume that the blonde boy was also her brother. She had two whole brothers that she had never knew even existed! It was positively insane. Her father held her hand as if he were afraid that if he let go of her, she would disappear again. 

"Father?" Elijah ventured. 

"This is your sister, Freya," her father said. 

"We have another sister?" the blonde boy gasped. Another sister? She had a little sister? The thought made her chest ache and her eyes water. She really had missed everything. 

"Yes, Niklaus. Come meet her," her father told them. 

Elijah and Niklaus walked closer to them, and the blonde boy smiled up at her. 

"Hello," he said. 

"Hello," Freya responded with a wet smile. "H-how old are you?" 

"I'm twelve," Niklaus told her. 

"Oh," was all she could say. "Can I..." She reached out to him with a shaky hand. Niklaus stepped closer to her, and she tentatively hugged her little brother for the first time. He hugged her back after a moment. She shut her eyes and exhaled with a little tremble. "Thank you." 

Freya slowly released him from her arms, and she saw Elijah watching her. She stepped toward him, and he let her wrap her arms around him. She put her head on his shoulder. Elijah rubbed her back gently. 

"It's good to meet you at last, big sister," the boy said. Freya nodded, tightening her arms a little. 


	3. Chapter 3

Finn ran his fingers through the thick bunches of straw, deft fingers expertly weaving them together into tight bundles. He smiled to himself as he worked, preparing the material to be brought back to the hut. Kol and Rebekah were playing a few yards away from him. He kept an eye on them, glancing up every so often in between arranging the straw bundles as they played in the dirt, drawing with sticks and chattering in hushed tones to each other. Finn smiled slightly, tying the twine tight around the bundle and setting it on the rest of the pile. 

Kol had dark hair. Rebekah had fair hair. It reminded him of himself and his own sister. True, she was technically theirs as well, but he had known her. They had not. Finn and Freya had been inseparable, always at each other's sides. Ever since Freya had gone, he had not become close to anyone in his family barring his mother. He trained with Father. He helped out with hunting and around the home. But he lacked that little spark of mischief and kinship that he had once had when he had had Freya. For some reason, he dreamed at times of her screaming. It sounded different than the cries and groans of a sick person, so he didn't quite understand what he thinking of.

Perhaps it was only some twisted nightmare his mind conjured up in response of the loss of his elder sister. Freya had died from the Plague. She was not... no. She had not been taken. Mother would not have let that happen. He was certain of that. He shook his head to himself with a small sigh and continued to transfer the straw into neatly done bundles. When he had moved the last bit of straw into the small hand pulled wagon, Finn turned around to call his younger siblings to come to him. His dark eyes caught on his brothers coming back from the woods. They were with Father and a blonde girl. 

Her skirt was torn and bloody, looking like the fabric had once been yellow. Finn had never seen a girl's knees before, so he felt his ears turn a bit pink. Mother had always told him that a good man never looked at a woman's unclothed body before marriage. He quickly averted his eyes to her face. Her eyes were blue, her pale cheeks framed by messy, tangled braids and loose locks of the golden hair. He had never seen his father with a girl, well, woman honestly, like that before. Finn moved over to his younger siblings and grabbed their hands, pulling them to their feet. Their father came closer with his brothers, and Finn stood ramrod straight, waiting to see what was going to happen. 

The sun of the afternoon seemed to make her fair hair turn the color of the river in the sunset, pale gold with slightest hint of red. Father had the strangest look on his face when he looked at her. He had not seen that expression on the hardened Viking since... ever, really. The girl let go of his father's hand and came closer to him. She looked very emotional for some reason, and Finn blinked in surprise, dropping Kol and Rebekah's hands as she flung her arms around him. He stood still for a moment, the girl clinging to him tightly. 

"Oh, how I have missed you, little brother," the girl said against his shoulder. 

"Do I know you?" Finn asked. 

"We always climbed the tree behind the house, the one with the notch on the bottom left branch. We would go there to hide and talk about what mischief we would cause," she whispered. His eyes widened, and he felt his heart skip a beat. 

"Freya?" Finn asked. His voice came out small, uncertain. The little boy who missed his big sister. 

"Yes, Finn. It's me," she said. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling his eyes begin to sting. 

"I had thought you dead, sister," Finn murmured. "The bad woman hurt you. I knew it. I did not want it to be real." 

"Bad woman?" Freya asked. She pulled from his embrace a little to look at him. Her blue eyes were achingly familiar, and he stared at her in awe, drinking in her grown up features. He lightly touched her cheek. She was beautiful. Though, it was so odd for him to be taller than his big sister. 

"She took you away from us. From me. I thought it to be a dream. It was so long ago," Finn confessed. 

"You remember that?" Freya said. She sounded surprised. 

"Yes. She shall never take you away again, Freya," Finn promised. His elder touched his wrist with a wet smile, her eyes glistening. 

"Thank you, brother," Freya said. 

A small voice piped up from beside them, and brother and sister looked down to see Rebekah and Kol peering at them. 

"You're pretty," his little sister said. Freya moved down to kneel in front of the youngest of their siblings. 

"Thank you. You are also very pretty. I am Freya. What is your name?" she asked. 

"Rebekah. But you can call me Bekah if you want to. That's what all my brothers call me," Rebekah said. She looked curious, cocking her head. "Are you really my sister?" 

"I am. It is so nice to meet you, Bekah," Freya told her. 

"I'm Kol," the small boy said from beside his sister. 

"Hello, Kol," Freya murmured. She smiled at them both. "Which one of you is older?" 

"Me!" Kol told her. Rebekah nodded in affirmation, her blonde curls bouncing with the movement. "Bekah's the baby." 

"Am not!" the girl said. 

"Are too!" Kol insisted. 

"Am not!" Rebekah said. 

"Are too!" Kol shot back. 

"Enough," Finn said sternly. His youngest siblings scowled for a moment at each other before they looked back at Freya. His elder sister looked like she was just soaking in everything, a thoughtful look on her face. Finn reached down to help her to her feet. 


End file.
